


half an angel

by itsnotsammy (gravewalke_r)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Episode: s12e23 coda, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Nephilim, Nephilim Grace, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravewalke_r/pseuds/itsnotsammy
Summary: Sam’s going to die.The realization of something so simple, so plain doesn’t scare him at all. He’s been ready to die for years now, to redeem himself from all his past sins and he knows he’s going to die now but– Dean, Dean is still out there, cradling a broken, burned corpse of what’s been their friend and their mother is gone againagainagain and Sam can’t let him have another body to bury.He can’t leave his brother alone after what just happened with Cas and Mom–But he can’t move.





	half an angel

**Author's Note:**

> hello, my friends! welcome to another piece of crap i call fanfiction and i hope you've enjoyed this little story. i couldn't stop thinking about a Sam/Jack relationship since the episode finished and oh well, i have no regrets in shipping them. it's wrong and all but *sigh*
> 
> thank you so much for taking your time to read, and if you could leave a comment i'd be very grateful. see ya!!

Sam’s going to die.

The realization of something so simple, so plain doesn’t scare him at all. He’s been ready to die for years now, to redeem himself from all his past sins and he  _knows_  he’s going to die now but–  _Dean_ , Dean is still out there, cradling a broken, burned corpse of what’s been their friend and their mother is gone  _againagainagain_  and Sam can’t let him have another body to bury.

He  _can’t_  leave his brother alone after what just happened with Cas and Mom–

But he can’t move.

Jack’s eyes are a burning spot in the dark, yellow-sickening like Azazel’s been in a long time ago and it still sends shivers down his spine, because that particular demon is the reason Sam’s standing here, staring at Lucifer’s spawn.

The baby-who-isn’t-a-baby doesn’t move either.

It’s like a twisted kind of staring contest and Sam feels a hysterical, almost uncontrollable burst of laughter crawl up his throat– _he’s going to die again, he’s going to leave his brother alone again_ –but he swallows it back easily, pretends his fragily sanity didn’t falter for a second or so.

He can see Jack smiling again, but it’s too dark for Sam to see his entire face, to try to figure out what the  _angel-human-kid_  is about to do or what he’s thinking. He can’t even understand why Jack is here, in a nursery that was supposed to be for his baby self.

Sam numbly wonders, for a second, if every nephilim is born this old, this  _threatening_ or if it’s just because archangel juice is stronger, if being Lucifer’s child means he’s able to bend the ‘rules’.

The  _baby-kid-thing_  is moving, slowly, testing. Sam can’t see much in the dark of the nursery, but he can recognize the faint lines of long members stretching and bending, as if Jack himself doesn’t exactly know what to do with them but he’s discovering, piece after piece.

It’d be funny if there wasn’t chaos and blood a galore outside this nursery, right on the backyard, and yet Sam can’t help the panicked chuckle that escapes his lips this time because the parallels are so  _absurd_  he can’t ignore it, can’t force himself to be a little sane just this once.

The sudden noise of his laughter sets something up. Jack’s eyes seem to shine brigher in the darkness and then he’s so close Sam can feel his warm breath against his face, can see the soft, still baby-like lines of his face starting to vanish.

That’s it. He’s going to die now.

He knows he should be scared. He should be doing something, anything to stop this  _kid-monster-angel_ and free the world from another creature threatening it but instead he feels eerily calm, almost detached from his own body and soul.

Like  _good old_  times when Lucifer was destroying his mind bit by bit.

Jack blinks. Slow, curious.

He’s not as tall as Sam. He’s thin, sickly pale but not so tall and that’s weirdly unexpected, because it makes him look quite  **fragile**  and this is something Jack  _is not_. There’s his grace thrumming under his skin and Sam can almost feel it–  _could_ feel it on his fingers if he’d just stretch his hand and touch.

He doesn’t know why, won’t think about it in any closer future but he does so. There’s a morbid, suicidal curiosity bubbling within his chest and he brings himself to touch the naked arm closer to him. It’s pure grace, tainted and twisted–  _marred_  by human blood just like Sam has been by demon blood all those years ago.

Jack  _laughs_.

It’s an  **ugly** , repulsive thing because the not-so-little bastard doesn’t know how to laugh and he’s obviously trying to imitate Sam’s maniac laughter from a few minutes ago.

The hunter finds himself laughing as well, at his own wavering sanity, at the complete absurdity of his situation.

Power keeps dancing under his hand, between his fingers and something inside him seems to  _snap_ – he feels too light headed, hyper aware of himself, of his own state of mind.

It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s insane. He’s been aware for years now, since Lucifer and the cage and everything else in between.

He just– _doesn’t care_  about it anymore.

For a second he feels himself struggling, trying to step away from the  _devil-angel-man_  but then there’s this sense of peaceful  _nothing_ washing over him, leaving him an empty shell, almost exhausted but not quite yet.

Jack’s touching his cheek now, yellow eyes never blinking. His touch is too hot, too painful but Sam endures. He’s been through worse, he’s felt his skin dripping off his body and this isn’t too bad– then his arms are full of something that  _should be_  a baby and he just keeps the nephilim close, ignoring the burning pain spreading through his chest now.

“Okay–”

Sam can’t listen to himself talking, but he know he is. He feels his own hand moving– he’s patting Jack’s head slowly, almost mechanically and he doesn’t even try to stop because somehow he  _knows_ things are going to be fine.

“It’s okay. Let’s go home now.”

“Okay.” Jack croaks, and he’s still smiling and it should be creepy, it  _should_  make Sam want to turn tail and run away in that very moment– but it’s  **okay**. They’re going to be fine. “Go home, papa.”

Sam quites enjoy how the word sounds in his ears.


End file.
